


Broken

by ladyschrei



Series: Original Works [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, No Dialogue, Original Fiction, POV First Person, choppy narative, possible mental illness, trigger warning: mention of attempted self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-24 00:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1584554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyschrei/pseuds/ladyschrei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were all right about it. About me.</p>
<p>I was broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact: this story won me an honorable mention in a contest.

Leave.

I wanted to leave.

I had my shoes on.

They wouldn't let me go.

Whispering.

Always whispering.

About me.

Me, me, me.

Little old me.

How there was something wrong. Something wrong with little old me.

Today they yelled. Yelled about me. What I had done wrong.

I had never done right. How could I have done wrong?

I screamed, digging my fingernails into my hair, kicking my feet against the wooden floor of my bedroom.

Tantrum.

I always had a tantrum when they talked about me.

I took off my right shoe. I threw it. Out the open bedroom door it flew. Flew to the maroon-colored wall in the hallway. Thudded against it.

The voices stopped, and then started.

My name. They were calling my name. [i]Macy rang closer and closer.

Well Macy's not here!

I slammed shut my door, reaching for the golden lock. I fingered it. It was gone, broken, dangling down.

The footsteps. Footsteps on the stairs. Closer and closer.

Barricaded. Barricaded my door. Shoved my vanity in front of it.

And that stupid girl stared back. Stupid black-haired girl. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ I wanted the voices to shut up.

And they did, when I took off my left shoe and smashed it against the mirror. The light bulbs forming a half-circle around the mirror blinked as I smashed.

Smashed, smashed, smashed.

I watched as the little chunks of glass spread throughout my room. Pretty when they landed, reflecting my bedroom light, twinkling like snow.

A winter wonderland. Except there was no snow. No snow to dance in, no snow to be happy in.  
The fists banging on my bedroom door made me jump. The door was shoving forwards. No, no, no. No. I didn't want them here in my wonderland. In my wonderland, I never imagined them. Or maybe I did. But not them. I imagined parents. But different parents. Not my parents.

Banging and screaming seeped through the cracks around and under the door.

I covered my hands over my ears and screamed.

Screaming didn't help. My screams mixed with theirs. My screams made it worse.

Noise. I needed noise. Not screaming noise. Noise-noise.

Stereo. Where was my stereo?

I studied the room. No stereo.

Then I remembered. My stereo was taken away, along with my computer, because... because why?

Why, why, why?

No thoughts could come. Too many screams.

No stereo and no computer, but a TV.

I rolled the TV stand by the door. The wire couldn't reach the circuit.

No stereo, no computer, and no TV.

Which meant no automatic noise.

Which meant I had to do it myself.

I grabbed my pile of CDs. CDs with no cases. I wasn't allowed to have the cases. They had the booklets, which had the music. I wasn't allowed to sing. Mother didn't approve of singing.

Smash. Shattered CDs. Loud noise, but not loud enough.

Their yells got louder, more frantic. CDs were no help. Once they smashed they could make no noise.

Posters. I ripped down the posters from my purple wall and split them in half. That didn't help. I could still hear the yells.

Extension cord. I needed an extension cord for the TV. I scanned the room. No extension cord.

Switch. I had to switch the vanity and TV. If switched, I could plug in the TV. If switched, the door might come open.

I had to take my chance. The TV was at an angle, stuffed between the vanity and the end of my bed.

I pulled the vanity left ever so slightly.

The handle to my door jiggled, doing a dance.

I pushed the TV over just a bit more. There.

The TV cord went into the socket. I turned the TV on. Cartoons. Cartoon Network was on. _Courage the Cowardly Dog_ played.

I turned up the volume. Up, up, up. Up to thirty now. Now the screams were gone. Overpowered.

I smiled. No screams meant freedom.

But suddenly, more screams. Screechy screams.

Over to the window. I drew back the curtains. Gray bars smiled back at me. I wasn't allowed to open the window. Dad always said I might get hurt if I open the window. So no window.

I leaned forward, brushing against the cold gray bars. They stung through my shirt. I cried out. And then I saw the makers of the screams.

Cars. Speeding cars with flashing lights. Not fun flashing lights, though. I hated their screams.  
Into the driveway they pulled. Long driveway. From the cars they ran. Over to my mother, standing in the middle of the green grass, gripping her robe tightly around her waist. She looked up, pointing, her finger stabbing at me.

I gasped and fled away, the curtains barely falling to protect me from the gray bars.  
No. No. I wouldn't go. I told them before. I won't go.

I screamed. Shut my eyes tightly and screamed. Jumping up and down on the wooden floor. It didn't bounce. Just hurt. Glass. I forgot there was glass.

It just made me scream some more.

Off the bed flew the sheets. The top, heavy blanket that always made me sweat. The pillows drooped to the side, falling from the bed.

The dresser. I opened the dresser and dug out the clothes. Around they swirled, hitting the floor soundlessly. Picture frames and stuffed animals off the shelves, falling and breaking.

Things everywhere. Too many things. And glass. Glass covered the floor. There seemed to be no floor. Just glass and things.

One last thing. I grabbed it from the dresser.

Glass.

Glass heart. Glass heart on a plaque. Big, glass heart. Clear, with large gold letters inside.

Macy. Macy inside the heart. Large, gold letters spelling out 'Macy' inside the heart.

On the plaque was carved: 'Love forever, Grandma.'

Love. Love on a glass heart.

I howled as I threw down the heart. Glass spilled everywhere, shooting up at me as I covered my face.

Door, the door. Too many people pressing against the door. It would break soon. Break and fall.

I pushed away the glass and sat on my knees. Shard. I reached out for a shard of glass.

My hand shook. My hand and the shard of glass shook. Shook as the shard went over my wrist. I could see my pale skin through it.

Down. The shard of glass was now on my wrist.

Down. I simply had to press down.

Another screech. Almost a buzz.

Tools. Power tools.

The door. The door would soon come down.

And as I sat there, waiting, I realized it.

It.

They were all right about it. About me.

I was broken.


End file.
